My mom really loved fall. Like most people I guess. But I grew up in Thailand where there is no autumn and my New Englander mother deeply missed the cool air, the crisp smell of fallen leaves, the harvest food… And that was before the pumpkin spice craze!
We moved back to Massachussetts when I was thirteen due to my moms cancer. And every fall, we embedded ourselves in Autumnal Activities like apple picking, pie baking, leaf peeping drives, and heavy cider drinking. We would have adventure days and discover new, adorable New England towns. My mom would DECK OUT our house with pumpkins, dried corn, mums, autumn wreathed, acorns… It was a wonderful time.
My mom passed away a little before my 18th birthday, and now fall is hard for me. I love summer and hot weather and I have a hard time maintaining my sunny disposition throughout our never ending winters, so fall marks the beginning of what is a tough season for me. But beyond that, I feel overwhelmingly nostalgic when the weather starts to change. I always want to do all the things and I never can capture those feelings I used to have when we were teenagers and I was experiencing fall through my mothers love for it. No matter how many pies I bake, or apples I pick, or towns I stroll through.
But this year I’m feeling different, now that I’m a mother. It feels like a beginning, this season, not an ending. I’m happy for the break in the heat so that my little guy can be out in nature for a few hours without sweating his baby brains out. I’m reveling in bundling him in leggings and moccasins and allowing him to feel the cool air on his soft skin.
(Red loves when I eat my Oat mama bars because he knows it means extra milk. Look at that face.)
On this recent cool morning, we walked with coffee in hand to a local public garden. The trees were heavy with apples and the air smelled of all the fruit on the ground. My heart is full so often with gratitude these days. And that day was no exception, because with my son, every day and every season seems filled with possibility and hope. My mother would have loved to hold her grandchild. She would have loved how his face reflects mine, how he lights up with a whole mouthed smile when we play with him, how he observes the world with such seriousness. I hope that I can fill him with a knowledge of her even though he’ll never get to meet his grandma. I have some sense now of how much she must have loved me because of how deep my love is for my child, and I’m grateful for it.
Dress c/o Envie de Fraises (maternity and nursing friendly)
Shoes: j crew, old
Reds leggings: Target
Reds moccasins: Old navy